


who are you really ?

by starflightss



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Boys Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I love that tag, M/M, Swordfighting, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Violence, drama !!, gay ppl being gay again, i will most likely add more tags to this, karlnap too ooohoho, oh yeah another dnf fic by yours truly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starflightss/pseuds/starflightss
Summary: george and karl are vampires.dream and sapnap are vampire hunters.except instead of killing each other they fall in love..... damn.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	who are you really ?

**Author's Note:**

> hi hahahaa this is gonna be a longer running fic woo !!!! 
> 
> i’m going to consistently update this time i swear.

who are you really ? 

George never counted himself among those with impressive memories. 

Frankly, he was downright terrible at recounting events. But he knew as long as he lived, he’d never forget the night he was turned. 

The ball. Him in a black waistcoat, white collared shirt, expensive trousers. The kind of outfit wealthy people wear as poor attempts to convince others they’re not as snobbish as they seem. 

It was a loud party, noise coming in from all sides, attacking George’s ears. The sounds of the small orchestra, the chatter of voices all around, crushing bodies, undulating and whirling on the dance floor. 

George had long since stumbled back from the concentration of people, and had hovered by the refreshments trying to seem nonchalant.

He had been mostly ignored by the people there, no one wanting to associate with the timid boy in the corner at a gathering so lively and upbeat. 

Until he had walked up. 

He was one of the most beautiful people George had ever laid eyes upon, with a full, glowing face and an infectious smile. The boy’s fluffy brown hair had fallen loosely over his forehead, and his hazel eyes glowed in the dim candlelight of the room, framed by circular silver glasses. 

He had flashed a warm, welcoming smile at George, and had proffered the other boy his arm. 

“Rather dull, this party, don’t you think?” the mysterious man had mused, words honey-smooth. 

George had nodded, the man’s smile bringing one to his own face. 

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr- oh, what was your name?”

The other boy’s smile had somehow impossibly widened. 

“Come with me, George Abduco.” He held out his hand, thin elegant fingers reaching towards the other man.

George’s eyes had widened hesitantly. How did this strange man know his name? But he was mesmerized by him, his face, his openness, his mystery. 

So George took his hand.

It was all a blur after that. Dark rooms. Loud chatter. Laughter. Pain, unrelenting, persistent, all-consuming pain. George had blacked out.

And woken abandoned outside the party with fangs and a lust for blood.

As time passed, he taught himself to be a proper functioning vampire.

For a little while, George had had to completely isolate himself from the outside world, as to not drain every living thing he laid eyes upon. But after vigorous training, after hours and hours of simply thinking about people, he’d finally managed to live a semi-regular life, murder notwithstanding. 

George never fully drained people, only took what he needed and left them collapsed outside of a party, much like his own situation. 

He preyed on people already disoriented enough not to notice the damage, and it proved to be a successful method. In those first few months, however, his family had been an issue. 

George had concocted all sorts of extravagant lies, trying to keep his wealthy and powerful family away from his secret. 

It was less the fact that he thought they’d hurt him, no. It was the fact that he knew with chilling certainty that if they ever found out, he’d be killed in cold blood. 

His family despised any sort of inhuman being, and had taught George those very same ideals, so the idea of being a vampire had been quite mentally taxing for him. 

But he’d gotten through. He’d formed a life for himself, a life of cavorting through parties and draining the blood from drunks, a life full of recklessness and wastefulness. 

George had figured that that was the only way to live now. 

George had made many choices he regretted.

Tonight, he was draped luxuriously over a huge velvet chaise, a glass of sparkling champagne bubbling in his left hand. 

He was surrounded by women, men, and others alike, leaning into him, ears primed for tales and jokes. George flashed an award-winning smile at them, and launched into another story about a party he had once been to. 

Sucking blood from exclusively partygoers had left him with impressive gossip, and people knew him for it.

He hosted private galas every weekend, and they had become somewhat infamous within the socialite circles. 

“So, I was simply minding my own business, you see-“ He gestured with his glass towards the audience. “-I had certainly never intended to eavesdrop, how blasphemous that would have been! But I overheard these two women, and they were speaking about-oh, you’ll never believe what they said!” 

George’s audience stared at him, eyes glowing, faces flushed, poised in anticipation for the dramatic gossip he was surely about to tell them. 

“They said their husbands, Lords Salisbane and Aberron respectively, had been having affairs. Affairs with none other than each other!” 

Gasps rang out from George’s crowd, and he smirked. Before he was turned, he had been timid. Shy. Needless to say, he was never favored at parties. 

But with his new vampire genes had also come confidence, and he had become revered within the city scene.

“Shocking, indeed. I could hardly believe it myself!” George tsked, shaking his head, soft brown hair falling over his bright eyes. 

He felt his glasses slip slightly forward onto his forehead, and he reached his unoccupied hand up to push them back into place.

At the beginning of his vampire era, he had found the white-rimmed glasses at a pawnshop, and had purchased them immediately. They’d become a staple in George’s wardrobe, a calling-card of sorts, and they reminded him of the man who’d turned him. A grim homage, in a way. 

George rose from the couch, walking into his kitchen to grab another bottle of liquor. The candles flickered on the walls, reflecting off of George’s expensive black suit and handcrafted boots as he gathered the bottles on a tray in his hands. 

Emerging, he cried, “More liquor, anyone?” and was swarmed by fuzzy-headed attendees. 

George never drank too much anymore, his fear of losing control overpowering his desire for alcohol, but he enjoyed his champagne immensely and still tried to consume it as frequently as he could. 

George sat back down on the couch, throwing his head back and yawning. It was getting late, and even though the party roared as boisterously as ever, George knew that if he didn’t feed soon he’d lose his chance. 

He scoured the room with hawklike precision, singling out the drunkest of the crowd. 

There. 

A young man, skin pale and sallow, whirled on the dancefloor in the arms of an equally inebriated woman. The man seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open, and the air around him reeked of alcohol. 

George sauntered over to the man and slung an arm around his shoulder, hiding his wince at the stench. He led the man away from the crowd of people, whispering promises of more quantities of his “special” alcohol. 

He guided the man into a small side room, locking the door after them. 

This was his room for all his vampire-related things, but it was mostly confined to feeding. The couch in the corner was splattered with blood, stray droplets from the feeding. 

George had gotten cleaner and more careful with feeding as time had passed, but the remnants of his first attempts stained the couch, sinking into the weathered fabric. 

He gently lowered the man onto the couch, and sucked in a deep breath. Now was the part he hated most. 

George struck, his head flashing down and his perfectly sharp fangs striking the man’s neck. He passed out instantly, a helpful effect of the fangs.

Plugging his own nose with two long fingers, George drained the man. 

After he’d drank his fill, George pulled a thin knife from his belt, and drew a careful line across the two nearly imperceptible dots on the man’s neck. 

Especially with the prevalence of vampire over-feeding lately, George had to be extra careful about not making his vampirism obvious. He switched up the methods, but lately it’d been a “strange drug injected through cuts in the upper neck”, according to the newspapers. 

George made sure to vary the people in his parties, as to make sure nobody figured anything out. He pushed open the small door in the back of the room, and gave the man, just waking up, a small push. 

The man stumbled out, and George slammed the door in his face. 

Dusting his hands off and daintily wiping the blood from his mouth with a silk handkerchief, he walked back into the party and began shooing everyone out. 

When the last guest had finally trickled out the doorway, George collapsed onto his bed, closing his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> follow my twitter @ ghzstbur smirks so hard. pog champ.
> 
> hope u liked this chapter !!!


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